


Faithful Heart

by mydogwatson



Series: WHILE THE MUSIC LASTS [21]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: A little angst. A little fluff. Romance., M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-02
Updated: 2013-10-02
Packaged: 2017-12-28 06:10:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/988637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mydogwatson/pseuds/mydogwatson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the proposal in a blizzard, time to plan a wedding.  Or maybe not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Faithful Heart

**Author's Note:**

> I can't stop with the romance. Not that I want to.  
> Maybe time to say again that, despite prayers to the Goddess and various incantations at the full moon, I still do not own Sherlock and John. One just tries to carry on.

Share with me this vow and for  
all time our souls will be entwined.  
Storms will come, but we will never  
part, for each of us bequeath a  
faithful heart.  
-Beth Nielson Chapman

A Sequel to KEEP WARM

 

It should not have come as a surprise that the whole getting married thing did not go as smoothly as one would have hoped. What might have been startling was that it was not Sherlock Holmes who caused the first blip, but the calm and steady John Watson.

Of course, any endeavor that began with a proposal uttered while the participants were trapped in a Welsh blizzard, expecting to freeze to death that very night, was probably off to a shaky start anyway.

It was those particular circumstances, in fact, which led to the very first complication.

The truth was that while John Watson was a highly competent soldier, an occasional and accomplished brawler, a short[ish] man without a Napoleonic complex but more than sufficient self-confidence, he still had moments of…insecurity. He had days when it was a total mystery to him how such an ordinary, somewhat damaged man had ever managed to catch the attention [and, apparently, the affection] of the miracle that was Sherlock Holmes.

It was only a single step from those doubts to wondering about the whole “will you marry me?” thing. As he’d said, John actually thought the odds were against Sherlock accepting his proposal over the romantic dinner at Angelo’s. But who would refuse an offer like that if he thought that they might never get out of the freezing car?

It might even be said that John Watson started to fret.

Did he actually know the man he intended to marry? Apparently not, because he really did not anticipate the reaction of one Sherlock Holmes to the sight of a fretting doctor.

 

John was sitting in the kitchen, brooding into his morning cuppa when Sherlock entered. The blue silk dressing gown was loosely tied over, well, nothing, really. Despite their near death experience of the previous day, Sherlock was looking positively perky, which was a very new look on him. It worked, though.

After pouring himself some tea, he came to sit at the table with John. One look at John was all it took for some of the glow to fade from Sherlock’s face. “You’re having doubts,” he said flatly.

Of course he was, but John just shook his head, not quite ready to say anything yet. Did he actually expect Sherlock to have patience? Clearly the good doctor was not being very rational.

There was a longish silence, during which John could not quite meet Sherlock’s gaze. Was he afraid of seeing his own doubt reflected there?

The silence lasted long enough for Sherlock to leave the kitchen, dress in a dark suit and a burgundy shirt, and then reappear. John was still at the table.

John knew he had to say something now. “Sherlock,” he began, “I just want you to know that if you…well, the circumstances were hardly normal, were they? So if in the light of day, you regret anything, I would understand.”

And just like that, Sherlock was Sherlock again. His face was blank and his words when they came were clipped and icy. “Obviously you are regretting what happened. Don’t feel bound by what you said. It was undoubtedly a foolish notion anyway.” With that, he grabbed his coat and was gone in a clattering of shoes down the seventeen steps.

By the time John really understood what had just happened and hurried to the window, Sherlock was already climbing into a cab. Damn the man; any normal person would still be standing on the kerb, one arm in the air as cabs blithely passed by. “Bloody hell,” John said, perhaps talking to the skull as no one else was within hearing range.

He already knew that he had made a dreadfully stupid mistake. All he had to do was think back upon the bright-eyed and happy man who had first entered the kitchen and compare him to the blank-faced chilly one who’d just left.

Sherlock hadn’t had any doubts. For whatever reason [which pretty much had to be love, didn’t it?], he really wanted to marry the ordinary man who’d proposed in the middle of a blizzard. Hell, he would have said “yes” even sitting in Angelo’s. Sherlock wanted to marry him. Or he had done, anyway, until Idiot John let his stupid insecurity take over. John also knew already that, whatever happened, he would never forgive himself for taking that look of pure happiness from Sherlock’s face.

He knew where Sherlock would go, of course, and because this was an emergency, John even splashed out for a cab himself. [Although it took several minutes of frantic arm waving to get one to stop for him.] Briefly, he thought about the notion of detouring to a jewelry store and getting a ring. But part of the fantasy he had constructed in his mind over the last few weeks included both of them shopping and picking out the rings they wanted together.

When he walked into the lab, it was no surprise to see Sherlock bent over a body. Nor was it a surprise that Molly was hovering, as Molly always did. She greeted him with a smile; as usual the friendly expression was touched with just a hint of speculation. Although it was never said, he knew she still hoped that one day John would be gone. Nothing horrid, of course, just maybe a new girlfriend or a sudden desire to lead a normal life. And then, ignoring what was now common knowledge about Sherlock’s and his relationship, she seemed to believe that her chance would come

Not today, he almost wanted to say. Never, really, at least if Sherlock would forgive him his stupidity.

Sherlock, of course, ignored his arrival completely.

“Molly,” John said politely. “Would you leave us alone for a few minutes, please?”

She shook her head. “I’m helping Sherlock.”

A quiet huff from the vicinity of the corpse made her frown. Then she just gave a quick nod and left.

Sherlock was humming to himself as he examined the dead man’s scalp.

John might have fleetingly bemoaned the morgue as a place for romance, but it was no worse---and certainly more familiar---than a hire car in a blizzard. He just looked at Sherlock. “Could you step away from the dead body for a moment?” he asked. As the opening to a romantic declaration those words were probably unprecedented.

Sherlock frowned, but then peeled off the gloves he’d worn for the examination. “Finished anyway,” he said crisply. “You needn’t have come. I don’t need you here.”

Those words might have hurt, but John rather figured he deserved them, so he didn’t respond. Instead, he dropped to his knees, which really made the height difference between them even more absurd. He reached out and took Sherlock’s hand. “I’m an idiot.”

Sherlock only nodded.

“But I love you. Will you overlook my earlier stupidity and marry me?”

After a moment, Sherlock dropped to his knees as well. He stared at John. “I thought…”

John smiled. “And I thought…well, I couldn’t believe that you really wanted this.”

“John,” Sherlock said in the same tone he used regularly to call him an idiot or the one he might use to say something like darling, if he were the kind of man to say something like that. Which he most definitely was not and which he never would be. At least not when anyone could hear the word, even John himself. “As I have already said, John, yes, I will marry you. I hope you will not make me repeat myself again.”

“I won’t. At least until the day itself. I believe it is traditional then.”

Sherlock smiled. “On that day, I will happily say it.”

John gave a low chuckle. Well, it was really a giggle, but he always preferred to think of himself as a chuckler rather than a giggler. Sherlock bent his head for a sweet kiss.

When Molly returned a few minutes later, they were sitting close together on the bench talking quietly. “Shall I get on with the autopsy, then, Sherlock?” she asked eagerly.

He barely glanced at her. “Oh, whatever you like. I’ll be leaving now.”

“But I thought you wanted---”

Sherlock jumped up and tugged John up by one hand. “No time for a liver today. We have rings to buy.”

John caught one fleeting glimpse of the startled expression on Molly’s face before Sherlock tugged him out the door.

And if the thought of actually planning a wedding with Sherlock Holmes was still a little frightening, well, John Watson was a soldier and a brawler. He could do this.

fini


End file.
